


Memorial Day

by Grey (grey853)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Series: Memorial Day, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:22:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/Grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tempers flare at the Memorial Day picnic with tragic results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memorial Day

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for "Night Shift".

## Memorial Day

by Grey

Author's webpage: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

* * *

Title: Memorial Day  
Author: Grey  
E-Mail: Grey853@aol.com  
Rating: PG-13 for language and violence, no sex. Pairings: J/B  
Status: New, complete  
Date: May 23, 1998  
Archive: Yes, to both  
Archive email: Grey853@aol.com  
Series/Sequel: Yes.  
Other website: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

* * *

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, but I can dream. 

Spoilers: "Night Shift" 

Summary: Tempers flare at the Memorial Day picnic with tragic results. 

Warning: This is not a death story. I don't do death stories unless it's to kill off some UPN CEO. 

Notes: Most of this was written before the finale. As far as I'm concerned the cliffhanger didn't happen. Call it denial, call it truth. 

Memorial Day  
by Grey 

"Jim, have you reminded Sandburg about the picnic tomorrow?" 

"A few weeks ago, yeah. Whether he remembers or not, well, ask him. If you can find him, that is." Jim Ellison shuffled the files on his desk one time too many. 

"Okay, my office. Now." 

"Sir, I've got the whole Hamilton report to finish." 

"Now." Simon Banks chewed impatiently on his cigar and watched as his best detective finally decided he'd better do as he was told, regardless of how useless the order might be. 

Once inside, Simon shut the door. "All right. Tell me what's going on." 

Crossing his arms, Jim wiped his mouth with one hand and remained silent. 

"Damn it, Jim, what the hell is it with you anyway?" Simon walked behind his desk, pouring a cup of coffee before he sat down. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, sir." He shifted foot to foot and wished he were working out, or running, or anywhere where he didn't have to think. 

"You've been acting weird ever since that night shift you pulled. I know it was a mess with that damn alligator and the shooting and all, but there's something else you're not telling me." 

"What else could there be?" 

"That's what I'm asking. Why is it you and Sandburg act like you don't even know each other lately?" 

"Well, for one thing he's hardly around." 

"I've noticed that, but even when he is, you two could be strangers. Though I have to admit, you've been a lot more civil to Conner lately." He lifted both hands in a tease. "What? You can't act right to more than one person at a time?" 

"Simon, if you've got something to say about a case, please say it. If you're just going to ramble, can I go?" 

The short words erased the captain's smile and good graces. "Damn, Jim. It's a good thing we're friends or I'd haul your ass out for that one." 

Realizing the harshness of his own words, Jim frowned and turned away. "I'm sorry, Simon. I just don't know what you want. Hell, I don't know what anybody wants anymore." The plaintive tone cracked the air like sand against a brittle glass. 

"Jim, I know I'm your captain, but we are still friends. There's something very wrong going on and I need you to tell me. Is it Sandburg? Did you and the kid have some sort of fight?" 

"Sort of would be putting it too mildly." Jim stared out the window but in his mind he saw only the shocked face of his guide as he'd accused him of violating his friendship and his trust. The pain in those dark blue eyes still gnawed at his gut. No apology eased the clarity of his own pain at believing what he said. He'd felt betrayed by the one man he'd let himself trust. That feeling still twisted in his mind, waving betrayal like a banner. 

"You want to talk about it?" 

"No. I just want to forget about it." 

"But you can't?" Simon's voice came right in his ear and he noticed the larger man beside him, his large brown eyes studying him with concern. 

"No. Sandburg and I, well, neither of us seem to be able to get past it." 

"Whatever IT is. Listen, Jim, I'm not trying to pry here. I'm really not, but if it would help you to tell it to a third party, I'm here." 

"I appreciate that, Simon. It's just that I need to work this out on my own." 

Simon paused and sipped at his coffee. "All right. Just let me hear you say you will at least try to work something out some time soon. I don't think I can take the unnatural quiet around here very much longer." 

Allowing himself a slight smile, Jim nodded. "Yeah, I know. You get used to his voice after awhile." His smile faded as he added, "Take it away and it seems strange, somehow empty. I never realized how much I depended on that voice." 

"Yeah, it works like that sometimes. You don't appreciate someone until he's gone." 

"He's not gone, Simon, just temporarily missing in action." 

"Then find him, Jim. Can't have Memorial Day without the famous Sandburg salads and the annual softball game." 

Hesitating, Jim tried to make excuses. "Simon, I'm not sure we can both be there. I mean, I'm going to try, but....." 

"I expect you to be there, Jim. The game starts at 2 and you're the star pitcher." 

Grimacing, Jim shook his head. "Sir, that just doesn't seem fair to me. I mean, I'm a ringer in there. Don't you think somebody's going to get suspicious?" 

"Why should they? You've always been a great player. With Blair as catcher, you're a natural. Beside, Taylor in vice deserves to get his fat ass kicked." 

"Yeah, he does tend to run his mouth." 

"So, you'll be there?" 

Frowning once again, Jim shrugged. "I'll try, but I swear, finding Sandburg lately has been a major investigation all on its own. Guess, I'll try to talk to him tonight. Settle this thing maybe." 

Simon lifted the softball on his desk and did a quick toss-catch with one hand. Smiling broadly, he ordered, "See that you do, detective. I love it when we win." 

* * *

The rattle of the key in the lock signaled his friend's arrival. As Blair walked in, he switched on the light, tossing his keys in the basket. Jim watched quietly from the sofa taking in the nervous hands pushing back his unruly hair, the blood-shot eyes, and pale skin. "Hey, Chief." 

"Damn, Jim. What are you doing up? It's after midnight." 

"Just waiting to talk. I was beginning to think you moved out or something." 

Blushing slightly, Blair dropped his pack on the floor by the table and walked to the kitchen. Moving the kettle to the front of the stove, he began to heat some water. Putting a mug on the counter, he turned. "Is that what you want, for me to move out?" 

"Of course not, Chief. I told you before, this is your home." 

"Is it?" The dark blue eyes stared at him, swirls of questions and insecurity. 

Jim stood up and stepped closer, leaning against the supporting beam, arms tightly crossed. "Of course, it is. What's going on, Chief?" 

"Man, like you don't know. Come on, Jim. We both know things have gone to hell ever since you read my intro." 

Lips tight, Jim swore to himself to remain calm. The hurtful challenge in the words tested his resolve. "I told you I was sorry about that. Besides, you weren't the only one who got burned. I paid for my sin by finding out more than I ever wanted to know about what you really think of me." 

"Jim, you read a first draft of an introduction. None of it came close to telling you what I really think." 

He shook his head, confused by the stress he heard in his friend's voice. 

"I don't get it. How do you write something like that if it's not really what you think?" 

"It's an academic paper, Jim, not a journal. I state a lot of facts and eventually, much later in the paper, I'll analyze and interpret what I think it all means. What you read is just basically a starting point. Granted, it wasn't what you expected, but it really didn't tell you how I feel about you. If you thought that, you're wrong." The younger man turned his attention back to the stubborn kettle that refused to boil. 

Jim heard the too fast beating of the heart, and something else, something he couldn't quite place. After a moment longer, he realized Blair's breathing labored hard and wet in his chest. Suddenly being angry didn't matter much. He wanted to wrap his arms around his friend and wish none of this had ever happened. Of course, that cozy image in his head of Blair resting and complete in his arms painted a pretty picture, a quiet, late night dream. Pale reality made for second best. 

Swallowing hard, pushing away forbidden thoughts, Jim focused on the moment. "So, how do we get past this? I apologized. What else do I have to do?" 

"You apologized, Jim, but you were only sorry for reading what I asked you not to, not for the other things you said." 

"What other things?" 

Blair glanced up. "You don't remember? You don't remember saying how you let me live in your place? Your place, Jim, not ours, but yours. You said you got me a job, and how I basically violated your friendship and trust. You don't remember that? Funny. I remember every word." 

"Jesus, give me a break here. I was pissed." 

He raised both hands as if in surrender, his face twisted with distress. "I know I should let it all go, but it hurts, man." 

Jim lowered his voice, speaking softly, but with intent. "I'm sorry, Chief. I really mean that." 

"Really?" Blair's eyes begged for a flood of persuasion. 

"Really. I said all that because I was hurt, too. I actually thought for a moment that you were thinking I was a coward, that all the things we'd done together were just for the study." 

After pushing a wild stand of hair back behind his ear one more time, Blair crossed his arms, hugging his chest. He bit his lower lip close to bleeding before he finally spoke. "I know that, Jim. I do. In my head, I know it was just a reflex, an over reaction, but even so, man. It makes me wonder how you can trust me at all if you really think I'd betray you like that." 

"I do trust you, Blair. I just saw the words and reacted. It's a bad habit." 

"It's just hard, you know? Every time you get angry, you start yelling. Sure, later you apologize, but, damn, man, it gets old." 

Jim nodded in agreement. He hated being so wrong, so completely responsible for his friend's suffering. "All I can say is that I'll try to do better." 

"I hope so, because I have to tell you, I'm tired of fighting. I shouldn't have to worry about what kind of mood you're in before I dare open my mouth. 

"No, you shouldn't." 

"I'm not sure how much more I can take of this." 

His heart clenched, Jim's warning system went on alert. "What's that supposed to mean? What are you really saying here?" 

Blair's head dropped slightly as his shoulders slumped forward. "I'm just saying I'm tired. Let's talk in the morning after we've both gotten some sleep. My body's starting to talk rebellion if I don't give it some rest soon." 

"And are you planning to actually sleep? The last two nights you've been up studying and pacing in your room. You make me tired just looking at you." 

"I'm not even going to ask how you know what I do in my room, Jim. The point is, I am tired, and I do plan to sleep. You don't have to keep worrying about me. It's not like last time." 

"I just don't want you getting sick again. You get these, I don't know, energy spikes, doing too much, going all the time. Can't you just find a way to power down or something?" 

"Jim, I'm not a computer. My head just keeps running, you know. I'll be fine. Let's just talk in the morning, okay?" 

Deciding not to push the subject, but marking it for future discussion, Jim nodded. "Okay, as long as we talk. I mean, I have to tell you that I hate the way things have been between us lately." 

"Me, too, man. I hate it when we fight." Blair put the tea bag in the mug and waited even longer for the water to boil. 

"Tell you what. Tomorrow we'll go to the Memorial Day picnic and I promise to be pleasant all day long. I won't argue with Megan and I'll even do any test you want to run. How about that?" 

Blair couldn't help but grin. "Peace offering?" 

"Sure, why not? Whatever it takes, Chief." 

Suddenly, Blair frowned before he asked, "Jim, are we supposed to be playing softball again this year?" 

"Yeah, why?" 

"What position is Megan going to play?" 

Puzzled, Jim scratched his head. "Damn, I forgot about that." 

Nearly laughing, Blair poured his water. "Well, it better be far enough away from the mound so she can't see what you're really doing. I don't think she's going to keep buying the psychic thing much longer anyway." 

Jim smiled at the simple pleasure of watching his guide brew tea. "I'll just tell her it's a gift, Chief. Besides, I'm not even sure she's going to play. I mean do they have soft ball in Australia? Don't they just pitch boomerangs or kangaroos or something." 

"Oh, man, tell me you're not going to start that stuff tomorrow." 

"What? No pink dingo jokes? Lighten up, Chief. It's a holiday." 

* * *

Jim rolled over from a deep sleep and wondered when he'd moved in over a deli. Turning his head just enough to glance at the clock, he read 6:48 AM. He groaned into the pillow as he realized that Blair must be cooking for the picnic. Slowly, he pulled himself over to the edge of the bed and sat up, rubbing his hand through the spiky tuffs of thinning hair. He pulled on a robe and headed downstairs. 

In the kitchen Blair busily chopped up onions like he did everything else, with passion and flair. He still wore the clothes from the night before, but a leather tie pulled his hair to the back of his neck. Already prepared plastic bowls stacked up and filled the table and counter. "Damn, Chief, how many people you planning to feed?" 

"We ran out of everything last year, Jim. I don't want to let anybody down." 

Jim lifted one of the containers and then another. He frowned as he realized every bowl had something different. "How long have you been up?" 

Still chopping, Blair stopped and then raised the lid on the pan to check the potatoes. "It's not that hard to fix everything, Jim. It just takes awhile. I've still got some macaroni to boil and then the last batch of pasta should be ready." 

"You didn't answer my question, Chief. How long have you been up?" 

Tilting his head toward the refrigerator, he motioned at Jim. "See if you can fit anymore of those in there. Then I need you to bring up the extra coolers I have down in storage. I borrowed two yesterday from Ms. Addie across the hall, but I don't think they're going to be enough. She wanted the fruit salad and that's in that blue tub. I thought maybe you could take it to her later and then go get some ice after you get a shower." 

Jim stayed silent for a few more moments while he watched Blair work through the kitchen, his movements nearly frantic. He'd seen this nervous response before. His young guide's hyper nature came out in full force when he worried or got upset. It sometimes went on for days before he'd finally crashed and either got sick or just fell out from exhaustion. After the Brackett case, his whirlwind lasted almost 4 days. Incacha's and Janet's deaths set the record at five full days and nights. 

"Blair, we need to talk." 

Ignoring the use of his first name, Blair continued working non-stop. "I don't need to talk, Jim. I want to get this all done before I write some letters I have to e-mail before we leave. I should've done them last night, man, but I was so tired, and then all of a sudden I just couldn't sleep. So, then I finished that article I'd been writing for the Anthropological Journal, you know the one about gender biases and power-based hierarchies found in patriarchal societies, and before I knew it, I had all this stuff out and I just needed to get it done. Do you ever feel like that, Jim? Like you just have to keep going until everything's caught up, but you can't ever seem to get caught up because there's just so much stuff to do, people depending on you and needing you to be there?" The words ran together like a heavy rain. The whole time he talked, Blair shifted foot to foot while he mixed and diced. 

"People aren't going to fall apart if they don't get a salad, Chief. Take a breath. You need to just settle down for a minute. Why don't you stop and rest?" 

A deep frown cut through his features as he used a forearm to wipe back his sweat. "I don't have time to sit down, Jim. I'm sorry I woke you up so early. You were extra tired, working on a Sunday like that and I know we don't usually leave until around 10, but since you're up maybe you could go ahead and shower. I'll have breakfast ready in a minute, that is unless you want a little coleslaw with vinaigrette." 

"No, thanks, Chief. I can fix my own breakfast. Why don't you just finish up and I'll go get the ice and see Ms. Addie?" 

"Cool, man. Thanks." 

Shaking his head, Jim knew a hopeless mission when he saw one. Blair would just keep going until his energy finally failed and he dropped. He just couldn't help himself. Heading toward the shower, Jim prayed that he'd be there to catch him when he finally fell down. 

* * *

"You've outdone yourself, Sandburg. Look at all this." Simon leaned over and took one of the coolers to help Jim unload the truck. 

"Just wanted to make sure everyone got fed, Simon. A hungry cop is a dangerous cop. I mean, it's a picnic and, hell, you're all still wearing your guns." Blair sparkled with unharnessed energy as he carried the extra bags of charcoal to the picnic table. He'd traveled back and forth three times before Jim or the captain even made one. 

"Slow down there, Sandburg. You're going to start a fire you go much faster." 

"It's okay, Simon. I'm cool. I just have to get all this set up. Joel, Rafe, and Henri should be here pretty soon. Oh, man. Jim, did we bring the cups? I think I have my glove for the game, but shit, I was going to bring my laptop, too. God, I can't believe I forgot it. How could I be so stupid. Shit." Blair talked as he walked, missing the quick exchange of concerned glances between his two friends. 

"Hey, Chief, why don't you go see if you can find Conner. She may not know where we're set up. We'll finish unloading." 

"Sure. I'll be right back." He dropped the last bag of groceries down on the table and headed off at a half run towards the front of the park. 

Simon shook his head. "Jesus, Jim. What's going on? I mean, I've seen Blair energized, but damn, I've never seen him like that." 

"Yeah, I know. He didn't sleep last night either." 

"If I didn't know better, I'd think he was taking something." 

"But you know better, right?" Jim turned to his captain, the deep lines of worry creasing his brow. 

"Of course, I do, but how long's he been like that?" 

"A few days." Jim reached into one of the cooler and took out a bottle of Gatorade. He handed it to the captain and got another for himself. He climbed down off the back of the truck and leaned against the door. "He does this sometimes." 

"Does what?" 

"Gets hyper. Sometimes when he's upset or worried. We just have to wait it out. It can last awhile." 

"How long's awhile?" 

"Five days is his personal best." 

"Five days? You've got to be kidding. I mean, he's wired tight." 

"I know. I need your help, Simon." Jim extended his senses as he spoke making sure Blair hadn't returned. 

"With what?" 

"I need you to help me keep an eye on him." 

Simon shook his head, confused. "Keep an eye on him for what?" 

"I don't want him pushing too hard in the game today. He's going to want to play every time I do and he's already exhausted. If you don't make him sit out, I'm going to have to cut back on my innings. It's not safe." 

In the distance Jim heard Megan and Blair talking over each other. Hurriedly he asked, "Are you with me on this, sir?" 

Simon turned and watched Blair walking backwards as he talked to Megan, his hands moving like a conjurer while he spoke. "Sure, I'll do what I can, but Jim, this isn't normal. I mean, how often does this happen?" 

Before he could answer, Blair came around the truck, he eyes wide with excitement. "Hey, Jim, Simon, guess what?" 

"What, Chief?" 

"Megan brought everybody some grubs." 

"With or without the heads?" 

Megan laughed. "Sandy's kidding. I just brought some Mr. Tube Steak and drinks." 

Still bouncing, the young man nudged Jim on his shoulder, "Yeah, but had you going, huh? Hey, look there's Cindy from personnel. Gosh, she's got her hands full. I told her I'd help her with her two kids. Be back." 

Before anybody had a chance to speak, Blair sprinted off toward a newly arrived red Taurus. 

Megan shook her head and frowned, hands on her hips. She stared straight at Jim. "Okay, what's going on with Sandy?" 

* * *

By the time the game started, Blair had three pairs of trained eyes watching his busy back. At the end of the third inning, Jim stepped over to his partner. "I want you to sit the next few out, Chief. It's hot and you're tired." 

Skin flushed, muscles tight with exertion, Blair rubbed his right knee already turning purple from sliding into second base. "No way, Jim. I'm fine." 

"Then drink something. You haven't had anything all day. You'd think after all that cooking, you'd at least take a minute to eat." 

Blair took off his hat and wiped his brow. Then he put it back on, adjusting the sweat-stained edge to fit just above his ears. "No time, man. Cindy needed help with the Cathy and little Tommy. Think about it, man, a single mom with an 8-year-old and a 2-year-old. She needed a break." 

"I thought you told me she just remarried." 

Averting his eyes, Blair flinched slightly and shook his head. "She did, but it didn't work out." 

A brief memory tugged at the back of his mind, but Jim couldn't bring it forward. It lay there in the shadow, hiding, refusing to come out into the light. Before he could try much harder, he heard his guide's strained voice. "Besides, Joel wanted me to help with the steaks and burgers, man. By the way, that ostrich meat went over great. Don't tell Henri though. He's still going on about how there's nothing like real beef over a grill." 

Jim watched the tiny spasms ticking through his arms. "Blair, listen to me. Sit this one out. Your muscles are going to cramp up if you don't stop. 

Blair's eyes flashed with defiance muted with hurt. "You don't want me around, Jim, just say so. No reason to pretend. What? You want Megan as catcher? Or maybe Simon? I mean, they're real cops right?" 

"Jesus, Chief. It's got nothing to do with anything like that. I mean I can see your arm muscles twitching for godsakes. You've been running at top speed almost non-stop for hours. Do you WANT to pass out or something?" 

Turning to face off, his heart racing, Blair leaned against the nearby fence, his left hand gripping the metal. "I just want to finish the game, Jim. People count on me to be there. I know how important it is to Simon. He likes to beat Taylor. Sure, it's that macho male dominance shit, but it makes him happy, so what the hell?" Mustering another round of annoyance, he argued, "Why can't you just back off and let me finish?" 

"And why can't you just sit down for five goddamn minutes without making it into some kind of conspiracy. Shit, and you call me paranoid." Jim slapped the fence in frustration. 

"I knew you'd have to bring that up. Just can't fucking leave it alone. Jim, I'm going to play the game, so just back off." 

"I'm sorry, Chief, but I don't understand what's going on with you." 

"Nothing's going on. I just want to fit in, to be part of the team. If I have to eat a fucking softball, I'll do it." The last words nearly hissed. 

Jim shook his head in amazement. "But you are part of the team, Chief." 

"Am I?" 

"Yes, Chief, you are. What will it take to get that through to you? You want me to sign an affidavit, or what? And you don't have to feed everybody or put on a performance either. Why is it always a test?" 

Shaking his head, Blair turned to leave, but Jim grabbed his arm, moving his body closer to the smaller man's. "Where do you think you're going?" 

"Let go, Jim. We're not alone here." 

Looking up and around, Jim found a circle of faces staring their way. Releasing his grip, Jim warned. "This isn't finished, Chief. And you're out of the game." 

Blair took off his glove and tossed it at the chain-link, the metal vibrating with the force of the blow. "Fine. You want me out, man, I'm out." Without another word, Blair stormed away. 

As Jim started to follow, he found his captain's restraining hand on his shoulder. "Give him some space. He's upset." 

"Well, hell, Simon, tell me something obvious. Shit, what am I supposed to do, let him run himself into complete exhaustion? Kid, doesn't know when to fucking quit." 

His voice calm from practiced command, Simon pulled his anxious detective over to a far section of the fence. "Jim, whatever's bothering him, he's got to work it out by himself. Let him go. Talk to him later when you don't have half the Cascade PD standing around as an audience." 

Realizing the reason behind the words, Jim let his anger settle down uneasily like surf at the edge of a storm. "All right, but I hate when he gets these crazy ideas in his head and won't even listen." 

"Crazy ideas and Sandburg aren't exactly new, Jim." 

"You don't understand, Simon. Blair's in trouble here and I don't know what to do." 

Before the captain could answer, Megan stepped up and talked softly. "Hey, you guys, they're putting in substitute players. I think I'll go sit with Sandy for a bit. Play the neutral party. If that's okay." 

Jim's face softened. "I'd appreciate that, Conner. See if you can get him to drink or eat something." 

"Sure, and if Mr. Tube Steak won't entice him, I'll go for some fresh locust to cook." Teasing ended, she turned serious. "Don't worry, Jim. Just had to spit the dummy, but he'll be all right. He's not the kind of guy to stay mad long." 

No, Blair didn't stay mad long, but he sure as hell knew how to hold on to hurt. 

* * *

The crack of the first round coincided with the slap of the softball  
into Henri Brown's catcher's mitt. At first Jim didn't recognized the  
sound, but just as everyone turned, the second shot whipped like lightning  
to his ear, burning his brain with an intense knowledge that the bullet  
hit a target of flesh too near his own.

All heads turned to the far side of the park and the human flood of police officers headed in the direction of the shooter. On the run, Jim focused his sight to the distance and saw a struggling young man pinned to the ground under Megan Conner. An hysterical Cindy held one small child in her arms, while her crying daughter gripped at her right leg. Blair Sandburg lay sprawled on the ground, a wash of red staining the back of his white t-shirt. At the distance, Jim heard the ragged, irregular breathing, and ran faster. 

"Officer down! I need back up and an ambulance." Megan's full blast voice pierced the air as she wrestled to subdue and cuff the man with the gun. 

Pushing through a circle of bodies, he kneeled next to his partner, the taste of copper pennies rushing down his throat. Jim touched his friend's back, noting the position of the exit wound and the continuing flow of blood. Already shocky, Blair's shallow breathing set the pace. Quickly he removed his own t-shirt, folded it, and applied pressure. He could feel the vivid heat pumping in a life rhythm against the palm of his hand. "Son of a bitch. Somebody get a doctor. I need some help here!" 

Ignoring the voices of chaos around him, he held the makeshift bandage in place while he spoke gently to his friend. "It's going to be okay, Chief. Just keep breathing." 

The barest of whispers of his guide's failing voice reached his Sentinel ears. "Jim, I'm sorry." The body under the push of his hand sagged and relaxed completely, air wheezing from the lungs. 

"Jesus, Blair. Don't you dare." 

* * *

The concert of voices and steady beating clashed in a confusing rhythm in his head. A background chant of his name distracted him, pulled him away from the soothing cadence of his friend's life sounds. Swallowing a shallow air, Jim Ellison opened his eyes and stared into the distressed face of Simon Banks. Shifting slightly, he realized he lay flat on his back, his captain's hand resting on his bare arm. 

"Thank god, Jim. You're awake." As he tried to sit up, Simon pushed him to stay put. "Lie still. You've zoned for over five hours. You're in the hospital." 

His vision blurry, Jim blinked several times and tried to listen, unconsciously hunting for what he most needed to hear. "Where's Blair?" 

Eyes darkened as Simon's voice tightened. "He's just out of surgery. The bullet missed vital organs, but he lost a lot of blood. We almost lost him twice. His heart stopped at the park. That's when you zoned big time. Went right out, Jim. Scared the shit out of me, I'll tell you." 

"Simon, I have to see him." 

Shaking his head, the captain braced himself against the railing of the bed. "As soon as you can, you will, but right now, you have to tell me what happened. I've never seen you zone like that before. You weren't exactly unconscious, but weren't responsive either. I did everything I'd seen Blair do, but nothing worked. I tried to pass it off as shock, but, Jim, people who know you, know you've seen this kind of thing before. They know he's your partner, but, even so, it's going to be a hard story to push." 

"I don't give a fuck what people think, Simon." Reaching up to rub his forehead, Jim discovered the IV in his left arm. Monitor lines ran from his chest. "What the hell's going on?" 

"I told you. You were totally out of it. You're under observation. They have a neurologist running tests. Something about a possible seizure." 

"This is crazy. Here, help me sit up." Still shaky, Jim grabbed his captain's arm for support, while his friend adjusted the head of his bed. "Simon, you know what happened. I don't need a doctor. I need to see Blair." 

A reassuring hand rested on his shoulder. "Jim, listen. They have him in ICU, but the doctor said his vitals finally stabilized. He should be okay, but right now I'm worried about you, too. What happened?" 

Jim shook his head, his vision still foggy, his sense of hearing on full alert. Across the distance he heard a comforting regular pattern of breathing. He finally leaned back, more able to relax now that his guide lived in less danger. Turning his attention back to his captain, he tried to put into words what he'd figured out. "When Blair stopped breathing, I lost it, Simon. I can't explain exactly how completely empty it felt. The heartbeat that connects us wasn't there. I had no point of reference." 

Fear twisted his friend's face. "Are you telling me that if something happened to Blair, you'd feel it enough to actually go out like that, permanently? Is that what you're trying to tell me, that whatever there is between you is so strong that you can't even function without him?" 

"I don't know. I just know that the only thing I could do once he started breathing again is hook up with the sound of his heartbeat. It held me as strong as any zone I've ever had. I heard you calling, but I couldn't come back until he was stable. I know he's doing okay right now, or I wouldn't be talking to you." 

Rubbing his weary face with both hands, Simon tried to gauge the impact of the words. If something happened to Blair, it happened to Jim. "Shit. This is not good." 

"But he's okay, Simon. I know it. Do you have any idea what it's like to know that there's someone in this life that is so close to you, he might as well be you? I can't live without him. I suspected it for awhile, but this is new. Now, I know why and, actually, it's a relief to have the physical proof." 

"Physical proof of what?" 

"That I need him." Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Jim tried to savor the complete awareness of his dependency. Rather than weakened, he felt strengthened by the knowledge. 

"Jim? Don't go out on me again." 

"I'm okay, Simon. Really." Opening his eyes he tried to remember the details. "What happened with the shooter? I mean, who the fuck was the guy anyway?" 

Uneasily, Captain Banks shook his head, the words painful as they passed his tight lips. "Patrolman Geary, Cindy's new husband. Remember the domestic we had to run out to her place a few months ago?" 

The elusive memory flashed. Blair helped Cindy file the charges. "Shit. I forgot about that." 

"I know. He was supposed to get counseling, but, hell, you know how that goes. One of our own, Jim. We should've been on top of something like this." 

"You're right. We should've. Now, Blair's the one paying for it." 

In a softer voice, Simon continued his story. "According to Conner, Geary came up out of nowhere, drunk and waving his gun, pissed that she was at the picnic with Sandburg." 

"But she wasn't there with Blair." 

"We know that, but he didn't. Anyway, if Blair hadn't jumped between them, he could've taken out Cindy, maybe even her kids." 

"Shit." Jim raised his arm up over his eyes, the sting searing the thin tissues of each lid. 

"The kid did what any good cop would've done, Jim." 

"I know, Simon. He's got more heart than any one of us. I need to tell him that." Struggling for more leverage, Jim awkwardly worked to sit up more and then pushed the button for the nurse. 

"What are you doing?" 

"I need to get checked out of here and go see my partner." 

A high-pitched voice came from the doorway. "I don't think that's a good idea, Detective Ellison. I'm glad to see you're finally awake though. I'm Dr. Kirkland, by the way." The middle-aged woman with closely cropped red hair walked up to the bed, scanning the monitor for vitals. 

Despite his fatigue, Jim took the defensive. "I'm fine, Dr. Kirkland." 

"Fine? Since when does being pretty much unconscious for half a work day measure out to being fine? Detective, you've suffered some kind of event, but I have to confess, I'm not quite sure what kind. The blood work is all negative and the other readings don't show any problem." 

Risking a slight smile, Jim pushed harder. "Then, when can I get out of here?" 

Dr. Kirkland studied both the man in the bed and the captain by his side. She noted the stubborn set of each jaw and surrendered. "All right. I really can't show any proof that there's a problem, and I do realize that you suffered a trauma with the shooting of your partner, but...." 

Jim prompted, "But?" 

"But, we both know it's not normal for someone to react this dramatically and for this long. I'd like to run more tests, but obviously, I can't force the issue." 

"I understand your concern, Doctor. I do. It's just that I'm really okay. I just need to see my friend." 

Resigned to her loss, Dr. Kirkland waved a dismissive hand. "You'll need to sign yourself out." Turning to the captain, she added, "And please, keep an eye on him. I suspect he won't be moving too far from his friend's bedside, so if he does pass out again, you can bring him right back." 

Smiling his own kind of surrender, Simon agreed. "I'll do that. Thanks, Doctor." 

"Good. Now, I'll go and get a nurse to remove the IV and start the paper work." 

As soon as the physician left, Jim started. "Where are my clothes?" 

"Stay put. I'll get Brown to bring you something in from the car. I had him go to the loft earlier to get a whole bag of things you might need." 

"Why?" 

"Two reasons. One, I had to give some of the guys crowding into the waiting room something to do. And two, your clothes are pretty well ruined. Now, hold on while I go tell him." 

As soon as Simon walked out the door, Jim leaned back and did a quick sensory sweep. Once again, he heard the steady sounds of Blair's body still hanging in there despite the seriousness of his condition. Putting a hand behind his head, Jim began listing all the things he needed to confess to the man he loved. 

* * *

"How's he doing, Jim?" 

"He still out." 

The words whispered, sounded tired and flat. Simon noted the haggard features as his detective stared at his partner. "The doctor said to expect that. He was worn down and now his body's still in shock. Otherwise, he's doing a lot better." 

"I want him to wake up." The child-like simplicity of the words fumbled through the air. 

"I know you do, Jim. We all do. But you've got to be patient. Why don't you go get a shave and something to eat? I'll stay with him in case he wakes up." 

"I can't leave him, Simon. Don't even ask." Stubbornly solid, the tone behind the words made it clear Jim Ellison would be on vigil for the duration. 

"Fine. You stay here and scare him with those whiskers when he finally does open those eyes of his." 

"He's seen me worse. Don't worry. I swear I'm all right. I just have to be here when he wakes up. I don't want him to be alone." 

Simon nodded and turned to leave. "By the way, the guys are taking shifts out in the waiting room. If you need anything, it's yours." 

"They don't have to do that." Jim sagged back into the chair bringing up both hands to rub his weary face. The beard scraped against each palm, burning penance into his skin. 

"They know that. Just like they didn't all have to donate blood. But that's what we do, Jim. We're family. The kid's part of that now." 

Overwhelming fatigue forced his eyes closed momentarily before he spoke. "Thanks, Simon. I'm going to make sure he knows that." 

"He doesn't already?" 

"No, but he will. He's going to know a lot of things if he ever decides to wake up." 

A softness eased the lines creasing Simon's dark face. "Go easy, Jim. It's all going to work out." 

"God, I hope so, Simon." Words struggling past the growing constriction in his throat, slurred against an exhausted tongue. "I can't bear to see him like this." 

Simon walked back into the room and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "He's going to be okay, Jim. Sandburg's too damn stubborn to leave you here by yourself. He's a hell of a fighter." 

"I know." 

"Then know that you've picked yourself a winner this time." 

As his captain left, Jim smiled at the truth behind the words. He turned to gaze again at the sleeping form, the man who gave him faith to believe there could be more to living than just going through the paces, the man who graced him with a revival of hope and the desire to care. God, he couldn't believe how much he cared. 

Resting a hand on his guide's forearm, he leaned in and whispered, "Time to wake up, Chief. Don't make your sentinel crazy here." 

Dropping his forehead to Blair's arm, Jim breathed deeply, visualizing his friend's handsomely exotic face. Suddenly, the slightest shifting brought his head up, his senses on full alert. 

"Chief?" 

Eyelids fluttered and slowly stayed open. Glassy-eyed, Blair turned his head and groaned, the sound growling deep in his chest. Running a tongue along his dry lower lip, he tried to speak, but only got a raspy sound for his trouble. 

"It's okay, Chief. Relax. You're in a hospital. Everything's going to be fine." 

The tense fright of a moment ago faded, replaced by smooth lines of security. Slowly, his lips moved and formed one word and then the smallest smile. "Jim." 

"God, you scared me. Jesus, Blair, I almost lost you." A wetness stung the side of his face, as Jim watched his friend close his eyes again, his vitals even and sure. This time he let the healing drift to sleep go unchallenged. Time would be the savior for both men. 

* * *

A wisp of touch feathered his cheek as Jim lay with his head on the hospital blanket. Suddenly awake, he sat up, his head spinning slightly for a moment. Dark blue eyes studied him, their startling clarity a bright morning pleasure. "Hey, Jim." 

"Blair, thank god." The older man snatched up his friend's hand and brought it back to his cheek. "You scared the shit out me this time, Chief. Don't ever do that again." 

"Yeah, I'll second that. I feel a little wasted." He gently let his thumb rub the stubble, smiling at the slightest hitch in Jim's breathing. "Hey, man, how long you been here? You look really lousy." 

"I'm fine now that you're awake." 

A shadow passed over Blair's relaxed face. "How are Cindy and the kids?" 

"They're fine thanks to you. Geary's in custody and he's going to stay that way." 

"That's what they said last time, Jim. This isn't the first time he's threatened her." The young man closed his eyes and took a deep breath, bringing on a deep, barking cough. 

"You okay?" 

"Shit, it hurts, man. Feels like somebody ran a fucking spike through my stomach." The pain twisted pale features, sweat slicking the curls clinging to his face. 

"I know. Just try to breathe slowly." Jim placed his hand on his friend's chest and tenderly massaged the tight muscles there. 

"Oh, man, that feels better." 

Still holding Blair's hand, Jim nodded. "Yeah? You like that? Want me to keep at it?" 

A greedy nod answered. Carefully, Jim rubbed and soothed him through the thin material, the body heat burning his hand with a satisfying fire. "Look, Chief, we have to talk here. I know this probably isn't the best time, but I have to tell you something." 

Tilting his head to get the best view with the least amount of effort or pain, Blair lazily settled back. He didn't mind at all that his best male friend and partner gripped his hand like a tether. "What?" 

"Did you ever wonder how tightly we're connected, Chief? I mean, really connected? Do you have any idea how I really feel about you and what you mean to my life?" 

"I used to think so, but lately, I'm not sure." 

"You mean you really don't know, Chief?" 

"I think I do, but it'd be nice to hear the words, Jim." The soft energy of his breathing shimmered the air between the two men, each watching the other closely. 

Jim smiled, the invitation from his partner clear. "Yeah, Chief, I know how you like words." 

"Pretty words, Jim. Tell me how you feel." 

"Bossy guide." Turning the palm up to his lips, Jim kissed the deep life line in his friend's hand. "I've fallen in love with you, Chief. Don't ask me how it happened, or why. Maybe it's part of the whole sentinel-guide package, but whatever it is, it surprised me." 

Sleepy, but forcing his eyelids to stay open, Blair struggled to repeat the catalog of wonders that played in his mind. His soul willing, but his body still too weak, he settled for the most important. "I love you, too, Jim. Give a me chance to get out of here and back on my feet, and I'll prove it to you." 

Grinning slyly, Jim stood slightly and leaned forward. "On your feet, Chief? What makes you think that's where I want you?" 

Trying not to laugh, Blair grabbed his side. "Don't say stuff like that, Jim, not yet. Let me get out of here and you can tease me all you want." 

His voice and expression deadly serious, Jim shook his head. "I'm not teasing, Chief. I'm not saying that's all I want, but I'm saying I want you and every thing that includes. By the same token, I want you to need me the same way. I love you, Chief, and for the first time in my life, I'm not embarrassed to tell someone that." 

"Man, a liberated sentinel. Way cool." Letting his eyes close again, Blair smiled so sweetly that Jim leaned down and kissed him lightly on his forehead. 

Blair chuckled. "Jim, you can aim better than that, man. Use your senses." 

Very carefully, Jim brushed his lips lightly across dry lips. The slightest extra heat of fever fired his tongue as he gently licked and sucked the lower lip before he pulled back. "Nap some more, babe. I'm here and the sooner you're better, the sooner we can go home." 

"Home? Our home? Yeah, I like the sound of that." 

The last words barely tumbled into the room. Blair's eyes shut and his breathing evened out to a settled, needed sleep. Jim watched closely as earlier lines of pain smoothed. The simple pleasure of watching his friend sleep thrilled him with a serious ache. He wanted desperately to draw the injured man into his hungry arms and fill himself with the energy that defined Blair. 

Sitting there as watchman, Jim surrendered to the notion that he had any choice about desiring his best friend's spirit. The bond between them forged a freedom that held him tighter than any steel, a freedom to love a man who loved him in return. The emptiness that once sucked and carved out his very being, no longer devoured him. Instead, he knew a future, a future that brought a trusting commitment to being both sentinel and man. Now willing to share both parts with the guide who knew the right path, Jim nuzzled the furry arm of his young friend with his bearded cheek. Reaching up he petted the soft curls that fanned out from the gown and then let his head rest on the edge of the bed. Listening to the sound of soul beats, he set his own heart in harmony with his Blair's. Lullaby entranced, he drifted into the sweet caress of sleep, stroking gently the skin of the man he loved. 

The End 


End file.
